


Pansy and Honeysuckle

by kittening



Series: APH Rarepair Week 2020 [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Flower Language, flower picking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24709888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittening/pseuds/kittening
Summary: Hungary and Belarus spend the day picking flowers together.
Relationships: Belarus/Hungary (Hetalia)
Series: APH Rarepair Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787080
Kudos: 10





	Pansy and Honeysuckle

If asked, Belarus would say that she had only agreed to spend the summer solstice picking flowers with Hungary because clearly no one else was going to do it, and it was simply a favor for a person she would describe, on a good day, as a friend. In reality, the time she had taken to “think it over” had been entirely spent imagining Hungary in a sundress, the sunlight illuminating her lovely tan skin as she moved, her long hair adorned with colorful wildflowers… there had hardly been a decision to make at all, not that Belarus would ever admit that to anyone. 

Now that Belarus had been wandering through tall grass for several hours, with Hungary seeming much more interested in finding flowers to pluck with extreme prejudice than saying a word to Belarus, she was having second thoughts. 

“I thought you were not a pagan anymore,” Belarus said curtly. 

“Hm?” Hungary turned, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She had already found small, baby pink flowers to push behind her ears, and she held an assortment of wild tulips, preparing to put them in her wicker basket. Belarus was taken by surprise at having her full attention, and couldn’t help but lower her eyes, avoiding Hungary’s wide-eyed gaze. “I can’t be a proper Christian and celebrate the summer solstice?” 

“I’m not sure you can,” Belarus said seriously. 

“Well, I’d say that’s between me and God, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with appreciating such beautiful weather,” Hungary said, giving a wide grin. “Don’t you enjoy this time of year? The warmth, the life? Even your cold heart must melt a little bit.” 

Belarus walked quickly past Hungary, marching ahead of her. She felt her cheeks warming, and couldn’t deny the tinge of hurt in her chest.  _ Her cold heart.  _ Was that really what Hungary thought of her? She could understand why she might--most people were apprehensive of her, if not outright afraid--but still… she didn’t want  _ Hungary  _ to feel that way. 

“Only teasing,” Hungary hummed. After another moment, in which Belarus didn’t dare to speak, Hungary continued, “May I see the flowers you’ve collected?”

Belarus turned, swallowing sharply. She gave only a shallow nod, and held out her basket for Hungary to inspect. The woman reached in and pulled out an assortment of blue, purple, and white flowers. Her eyes lit with excitement, and Belarus almost smiled in return before she caught herself.

“These are beautiful!” Hungary exclaimed. “Poppy, cornflower, and white violet--all a sign of luck. You have a good eye! And good fortune to come, apparently.” 

Belarus blinked. “I’m sure you picked the same kinds, since we have been together the entire time,” she mumbled. 

“Let’s see,” Hungary continued. She pulled another bunch of flowers from Belarus’s basket, this time retrieving some with yellow and purple petals. “Wild pansy and honeysuckle,” Hungary observed. She stared at the flowers in her hand for a moment, before starting to chuckle to herself. 

Unsure of what to do, Belarus asked hesitantly, “Are these a sign of anything?” 

“Mm. You know, I could make a nice tea with these,” Hungary said, gently thumbing the pale yellow petals of a honeysuckle flower. With a hint of a smile, she looked up at Belarus. Her deep green eyes sparkled. “Or vodka.” 

“Honeysuckle vodka,” Belarus repeated. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“Hm, and I thought you were Slavic.” Hungary carefully pulled a delicate flower from its stem and popped it into her mouth, giving a sigh of satisfaction. With her voice muffled as she chewed, she said, “I’ll have to remember to send you a special Christmas gift this year.” 

“Oh.” Belarus’s face felt warm. “I’ll give you something as well, then.” 

“A flower-picking date is enough of a gift!” Hungary said brightly. “I was so pleased that you wanted to come. Everyone else has been standing me up these last few years. I thought I might have to come out here alone--not that I mind, of course. I’ve celebrated plenty of solstices alone, but it’s really so much better with a friend.” 

Belarus was slightly bemused. Hungary had said ‘date’--but then she’d said ‘friend’. Was this a friendship date? Was that even a thing that existed, or was Belarus overthinking everything? That seemed likely.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” Hungary said. 

Belarus jolted upright. “I am,” Belarus assured her. “I apologize. I--I don’t know what to say.” 

“That’s alright,” Hungary said pleasantly. “Why don’t we rest for a bit and have lunch? Maybe you’re low on energy.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Belarus mumbled. She settled onto a blanket Hungary pulled from her basket, and they shared the meal that Hungary had prepared: meat pastries and apple pie, with lavender lemonade and iced ginger tea. Belarus was prepared to put all of her effort into maintaining a conversation, but Hungary was distracted, fiddling with flowers in her lap, which suited Belarus just as well. She was content to spend most of the meal simply watching Hungary--the woman seemed completely at ease, in her own element. Belarus realized yet again how beautiful she was, relaxing in the sunlight--she was scrambling to find the best way to comment on it, without being too forward or, even worse, awkward, when Hungary abruptly looked up.

“Here,” Hungary said excitedly. She held up a flower crown made of pansy and honeysuckle, woven together with the stems. As Belarus stared in surprise, Hungary leaned over to place the crown on Belarus’s head, then smoothed down her hair. “This is for you.” 

“Oh.” Belarus slowly reached up to touch the flowers. The sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted around her. “I…” She really didn’t know what to say this time. She didn’t remember the last time anyone had made anything for her, much less something so beautiful.

“No need to thank me,” Hungary said, beaming. “I thought the pansy would match your eyes, and I just had to make it. You look so pretty!” 

Belarus’s heart skipped a beat. “So do you,” she said breathlessly. A moment too late, she realized that Hungary had only complimented her because of the crown--and Belarus had complimented Hungary out of nowhere. But if the woman noticed, she didn’t seem to mind; she kept smiling, as radiant as ever.

In a sudden effort to change the subject, Belarus said, “You didn’t answer before. What do pansy and honeysuckle represent?” 

Hungary chuckled again; for a moment, Belarus was afraid that it had some sort of horrible meaning, and this had all been a joke. But when Hungary smiled again, her expression was soft. “Affection,” Hungary said gently. Belarus froze, her fingers going still against the petals of the crown. Hungary continued, “Strong affection, really… one might say ‘love’.” 

“Oh,” Belarus breathed.

“You did choose them well,” Hungary laughed. “We should go flower-picking again. Or… something else, just as fun.” She looked at Belarus expectantly.

Belarus broke into a smile. She was sure now--Hungary was asking her on a date. Not a friendship date, but something much better. Belarus hadn’t dared to hope that the day would turn out so wonderfully. “I’d like that,” she said softly. 

“Perfect!” Hungary leaned over and pressed a sudden kiss to Belarus’s cheek. Without giving Belarus time to recover, she said, “We could bake bread for Lammas, the harvest celebration. It’s coming up soon.”

“That… sounds very pagan,” Belarus said, dazed.

“Maybe so,” Hungary said, shrugging. “God will have to forgive me. The bread is just too delicious.”

“I’ll join you just for the bread, then,” Belarus said. As Hungary smiled back, Belarus felt warmth spreading through her--it was unfamiliar, feeling this happy. But according to Hungary, she had good fortune to look forward to. She was sure the feeling would last. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Honeysuckle vodka is a real thing, which I discovered while doing research on flower language. Can’t say I’ve ever tried it but I definitely want to!  
> 2\. I’m working on another Hungary/Belarus fic! It probably won’t be posted for a while but it’s happening!! Gotta give these underrated girls some rep  
> 3\. Finally, thank you for reading!!! I’ll be posting more fics for rarepair week, so if you liked this one, I hope you’ll check back for more :)


End file.
